


Ten years, a hundred years

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Honeymoon, M/M, Modern Era, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After years of fighting for marriage equality, Hawke and Anders finally get the honeymoon they deserve.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Ten years, a hundred years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [min_T](https://archiveofourown.org/users/min_T/gifts).



> Written for min_T for the DA smutquisition! I hope you like it! :)

Anders yawned, stretching his arms over his head, working out the kinks that had settled in his bones from sitting for far too long in a seat made for a man considerably shorter than he was. His knees ached and he wasn’t sure if he had slept for longer than two hours in the past four days, too jittery from all of the excitement of dress rehearsals, dinners, brunches, lunches, and bachelor parties. Endless chatting and eating, watching Hawke drink himself silly and sing a rousing chorus atop a bar, Isabela and Varric swaying at his sides as the rest of their friends cheered them on.

And then, finally, the day itself had come and everything was perfectly imperfect. Anders had forgotten to eat the entire day and fainted by noon. Hawke had nearly forgotten to tie the ring boxes on top of his brutish mabari Max’s head. Sebastian had forgotten to ask everyone to be seated, so their guests just stood through the entire, albeit brief, ceremony. So many tiny details on their list that slipped their minds, but by the end of the day, he and Hawke were married, surrounded by their friends and all was right in the world.

“A hundred thousand years,” Anders had murmured into the microphone, hands laced with Hawke’s, “wouldn’t be enough to show you how much I love you.”

Hawke had kissed him then, ignoring Sebastian’s protests that they were skipping half the ceremony, and whispered that it had been, from the very first moment. Anders thought he would melt into the ground, dissolve into a puddle in Hawke’s arms.

The dancing eventually died down and the only people left were the two of them, Anders resting his head against Hawke’s shoulder as they swayed slowly, whispering words of love, enjoying their first hours as husbands. 

_Husbands_. What a bizarre thing that neither of them expected they’d ever get to say, but the laws across Thedas were being slowly repealed. Marriage was only a step, but it was an important one. A symbolic one, with so many implications it made Anders’ head spin. The fight wasn’t over, but they’d won a battle at least. One that deserved to be celebrated.

When the festivities finally drew to a close, Anders and Hawke quickly changed before being whisked off to the airport for a well-deserved vacation in Antiva. It was a painfully long flight, but Anders had caught up on something resembling sleep as the plane soared through the clouds, his heart doing much the same.

As soon as they were in sight of the cabana, Anders’ breath hitched as Hawke lifted him up over his shoulder, racing towards their little home away from home for the next week, Anders pawing at his back. His wriggling only earned him a grunt and a low chuckle from Hawke as he set Anders on his feet on the wooden planks to unlock the door to the little cottage, only to hoist him up again and bridal carry him across the threshold, Anders helpless to do anything but cackle wildly.

Sheer white curtains fluttered from the sea-salted breeze that blew across the cabana, the ocean in view from the back porch, the swell of the tides keeping a steady tempo at odds with the arrhythmic thrumming of his heart. Not for the first time in the past few days, the telltale burn began to make his throat ache, his vision going fractal.

Hawke hugged him from behind, his beard scratching through Anders’ tee shirt as he nuzzled against his shoulder, kissing along his chin. “Is something the matter?” he whispered, as Anders turned in his arms to return the embrace.

“No,” Anders murmured, resting his forehead against Hawke’s, gazing into the depths of his eyes. “Nothing at all. Everything is perfect. Unimaginably perfect.”

“It could be even more perfect,” Hawke chuckled, thumbing his cheek as a tear fought its way loose, slipping from Anders’ eye to run down his face. “If you’re up to it?”

Anders laughed, catching Hawke’s lips with his own. “ _Up_ to it.” What a ridiculous notion. “I’d like to ride you until I collapse and fall asleep with you still inside of me.” He nipped at Hawke’s ear, grinning, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand, sniffing. “Love.”

Hawke flashed a grin, sharp and quick, tugging Anders across the hardwood floor towards their bedroom, silk, crisp, ivory sheets over memory foam. How much had he _spent_ on this place? Anders was pressed back against the pillows as Hawke dragged his tee shirt up and over his shoulders, tossing it away before climbing on top of him. Anders’ fingers tangled in the rough hair covering his chest, wrapping his legs around Hawke’s waist, sighing as his lover- his _husband_ \- kissed down his neck to his collarbone, pulling Anders up to undress him. Warm, calloused, familiar palms smoothed across his bare chest, Hawke rolling his hips, already hard in his jeans. Anders whimpered, his need becoming more and more insistent with each kiss. He fumbled with the button to Hawke’s jeans until the man took pity on him and released himself, kicking his pants off, allowing Anders to grip the tight globe of his ass, drawing him closer. Each inch of Anders’ skin Hawke revealed he covered with kisses, the process agonizingly slow and making Anders writhe against the silk. Thick fingers slipped under the line of his jeans, palming the hard length of Anders’ cock through the fabric of his boxers. 

“You’re _teasing_ me,” Anders protested, wrinkling his nose as Hawke stroked him gently, using only the barest of touches. “On our _honeymoon_.”

“Just enjoying the process,” Hawke chuckled, drawing Anders’ jeans and boxers down to his thighs, squeezing him lightly and brushing his lips across Anders’ abdomen, feather-light, the call of seabirds audible just outside their window. 

Without warning, Hawke enveloped him with his lips, Anders’ hands clenching in the blankets reflexively, twisting in Hawke’s iron-clad grip as he bobbed, flattening his tongue to take Anders deeper. Painfully slow, each movement, maddening and- It took all of his restraint to keep from bucking into his throat, but Anders bit his lip instead, whining as Hawke tasted him. The world seemed to shrink around the two of them and the sea as Hawke lingered over his task, eyes closed in pleasure, spit dribbling down his chin and dampening Anders’ legs. 

When he thought he’d had enough, Hawke scrabbled in his discarded jeans pocket, slicking his fingertips from a bottle he’d kept squirreled away and pressing one into Anders, making him gasp and grip the pillows tightly. A finger curled into him, grazing that spot that made him call and cry out, made the world seem to shimmer and shine, and then a second finger joined it. Whatever was left of Anders’ restraint dissolved in an instant and he rocked against Hawke’s fingertips, arms braced against the headboard for leverage. Hawke grinned, climbing on top of Anders to meet his lips, that familiar brine thick on his lips as they kissed and Anders fucked himself on Hawke’s hands.

“More,” Anders grunted, grimacing, “More, Hawke, I need-”

Hawke kissed him hard and Anders groaned at the sudden lack of pressure, Hawke flipping to lie on his back, taking Anders hand. Anders bent to kiss his fingers and straddled him, slicking Hawke’s length and guiding it between his cheeks, moaning as he dropped down slowly, inch by inch, until Hawke was seated inside of him. 

And then he rode Hawke with an unrestrained fury, his hair sticking to the back of his neck, so blissfully full he thought he might cry. Sweat collected at his brow, his thighs burning, Hawke meeting him thrust for thrust, fast and hard and deep and-

Hawke caught his lips, dragging Anders flush against his chest. “I wanted to kiss you when-”  
Anders hummed his agreement, allowing his lips to be parted, tasting himself on Hawke’s tongue as he became the swelling sea itself, crashing against the rocky shoreline, drawing back only to crash again, relentless, fire in his veins, every muscle tight and screaming and-

Hawke cried out, spilling into Anders’ aching body as he twitched, spasming, and the sound of his name on Hawke’s lips was enough- More than enough- Far more than enough- For Anders to follow him, pleasure washing over him in overlapping waves.

He couldn’t say how long they’d stayed there, twined together, breaths returning to normal, sweat sticking their bodies together. The ocean didn’t offer any answers, its regular tides as consistent as ever. 

The beginning of their eternity, the life they’d fought for, bled for, finally theirs.


End file.
